Weightless
by Remember Goober
Summary: [Gorillaz]A Respectable Satanist cannot think about people like 2D. Until you realize no one is really innocent. [SLASH! 2DMurdoc]
1. Sleepless Nights

A Respectable Satanist cannot think about people like 2D.

They just can't. It throws off their entire view of the universe. Sure, Murdoc knew the man was no saint. In fact, he was so hopped up on painkillers most of the time (necessity or no) that he had trouble remembering his own nickname. And when he wasn't on the pills, he was impossible to control.

Still, sometimes, when Murdoc looked his way, he could see something in him that made angels nearly impossible to resist. A sort of purity that was never touched, no matter how he tried to reach it. It remained above him, around him, so far from his grasp that he wasn't sure anything could really reach it at all. But it remained so teasingly close, reminding him of all he was truly missing.

He didn't want to believe 2D was doing it on purpose. No, that would mean the man was a lot smarter than he thought, and _that_ would open up a whole other can of worms. He didn't want to think about that just yet. There were more pressing matters to attend to. Like the new song he was supposed to learn.

See, in an effort to remain a respectably nasty Satanist, he'd taken to ignoring the brain-dead motherfucker as much as was humanly possible.

This idea seemed easy at first. Aside from meals and the more-than-occasional zombie attack, he had no reason to speak with the vocalist. Practice was never time for idle chit-chat, and he'd made a great effort not to run into him lately. He'd even saved pummeling the breath out of him as a last resort. He wondered if he'd noticed.

_Of course not. The brain-freeze is too medico-stoned to notice…_Sighing, he lounged back on the pungent mattress he called his bed, enjoying the solitude of his Winnebago. The chords of his bass thrummed against his fingers, the vibration reminding him that he could feel. That was why he loved the guitar. It pulsed and sang with the slightest touch. Lived, but only in someone else's hands.

The window to the car park was cracked a little at the bottom, and he could flip up the bottom corner of the confederate flag to see who was walking by. He didn't feel like it, though it struck him odd that anyone other than he or Russel (whose footsteps were easily distinguished) would be walking through the car park at this time of night. Normally about this time, Noodle was asleep, Russel was at the nearest fast-food place, and he was out hitting on blonde groupies. Not that he had anything against brunettes. Or redheads, for that matter.

There was something funny about this. Those footsteps weren't Russel's. Softer. If he had any music on, he would never have heard them. He wanted to look out the window, but he'd kept himself out of his band members business for the past week. He didn't want to start prying into things now.

Plucking a string of his bass with his nail, he raised an eyebrow to himself as he realized the footsteps were passing the Winnebago without pause. So, they weren't looking for him? Finally giving in to curiosity, he flipped up the bottom right corner of the flag and peeked through. He blinked at the person he saw. Pushing open the window and speaking without thinking, he shouted to the retreating figure.

"Oi! Face-Ache! What're you doin' out there at two in the fuckin' mornin'!"

* * *

2D stopped dead. _Shit…_ He'd been just about out of there, too. And the last person he really wanted to see…

Turning slowly, he looked back toward the Winnebago, facing Murdoc. He knew he should've gone out his own back exit, but the bikes were all in the car park. Grinning sheepishly as always, he sent a little wave at Murdoc, hoping the bassist would leave him alone. Apparently, hoping didn't work.

"Well? You gonna answer me, Brain-Freeze?" He hated that nickname.

"Hey, Muds. How's it goin'?"

"It's two in the fuckin' mornin', you dick. Go to sleep!"

The window slammed shut, and 2D sighed. Turning back, he began trudging back the way he came. There go his chances of getting laid tonight. He'd gotten distracted playing pong, and thought maybe if he left at two, no one else would be awake, and he could get the one-night-stand out of there by five-thirty.

His one-night stands weren't new. After what happened last time, he wasn't much for anything steady. Girls were great, but guys were better. He didn't care where he got it; he just wanted to be able to forget about it before breakfast. It worked, most of the time. But, sometimes, it was a little difficult. Especially if it was a guy. The guys he picked up… they always tended to remind him of… someone.

Murdoc… _He's really one to talk, isn't he?_ He thought snidely to himself. He knew what would be going on over there had it been any other night. With some girl, from some club, whom he'd picked up with some cheesy line 2D didn't want to hear. Or maybe he did, and that was the pathetic part. Maybe he wanted to hear the words Murdoc told the girls he brought to his bed every night. Maybe he wanted to know what made him so appealing in the hazy lighting of the bars and clubs he liked to visit. Maybe he wanted to know what he was missing.

He pushed open the door to his room and collapsed back on his bed. He didn't need to change. He just needed to forget about things tonight. He didn't need the thoughts or the headaches. Popping a painkiller, he made his mind drift away, making a mental note to quit playing pong when he needed to get laid.

* * *

**(A/N) This isn't done? 0.0 It was supposed to be a one-shot, but I actually kind of want it to be a chapter fic. Review if you agree! **


	2. On The Table

There wasn't much he could say for mornings, aside from the occasional four-letter word. Murdoc wanted to roll over and go back to sleep. But, he knew for a fact they had to practice that day. It was in the fucking planner Noodle had given him for Christmas the year before, the one that he used just to keep her happy.

Stretching out, he felt around to wake the body beside him, only to find it gone. Smiling to himself, he rolled out of bed to look for a semi-clean shirt. One-night stands were a pain in the ass to get out the door, but lucky for him, this one knew what to do. Pretty little red-head, too. If he saw her again, she'd be good for a night.

He needed coffee. Stepping out of the Winnebago, whose kitchen had long been the most hazardous laboratory of inconclusive, accidental experiments known to man, he headed for the house kitchen. Noodle blinked at his entrance.

"Murdoc?"

"'Lo, Noodle." He grumbled, plopping down on the chair across from her. She hurriedly got to her feet, scrambling to get him some coffee before she did anything. He was never pleasant without caffeine. Setting his mug down on the table, she quickly filled it with black coffee.

A gulp of coffee, and Murdoc was awake and sour as ever. The sound of scuffling footsteps awakened him to the arrival of 2D, who was always a little more brain-dead in the morning. He blinked at the sight. The boy was disheveled, hair sticking out more than usual, morning shave a little shoddy. He looked like he'd been tossing and turning all night.

He eyed 2D carefully, taking another gulp. It had been a week since he'd caught him sneaking out. Neither of them had said a word about it, of course. He was sure it was not something 2D wanted anyone to know about. But, honestly, he'd never considered the prospect. 2D, with something to hide? He wasn't smart enough to do anything remotely worth shame, was he?

He watched as the younger man practically fell into his chair, poking at the bowl in front of him. "'Ey, Noodle, where's my cereal?"

The girl dropped 2D's favorite box of sugar-riddled morning food in front of him. She looked a little nervous at the fact that Murdoc was actually joining them for breakfast. She had the right to be. The guitarist hadn't been seen at the table since the last millennium.

Ignoring Noodle's ever-worried stare, he gulped down the rest of his coffee and watched 2D pour his cereal. He looked wiped out. Exhausted. Like he had no sleep. Funny. He'd looked like that the day before, too. And the day before that. And the day before that…

"What's wrong with you lately, Brain-Freeze?"

Russel, who had just come down the stairs, turned to look at him in shock. Noodle blinked, trying to keep her face calm. 2D didn't seem to hear him at first. Then, slowly picked his head up from his bowl of untouched cereal. "Wha…?" He shook his head a moment to try and break from sleep. "Nuthin', Muds. Just tired, that's all."

"You went to bed at eight last night." He poured himself another cup. "Shouldn't be so tired."

"Well, you know how it is…" He looked back down at his cereal. Stirring the flakes around in the milk, his eyes followed their movements sluggishly. Was he already stoned that morning? He'd have to check those prescription bottles.

_Not that I care…_ He thought bitterly, breathing in the scent of fresh black coffee.

* * *

Behind the deadness in his eyes, 2D's mind was racing.

That had to have been the longest conversation he and Murdoc had shared in about five months. He was glad he had perfected the 'soulless eyes' routine. Now, nobody knew whether he was thinking or not. Not even Noodle, who was usually practically empathic. It was all in his face, and his reputation.

He knew the fact that he was often heavily medicated attributed to how the world viewed him. A hollow, ghostly voice, whose tunes were the only intelligent outlet for a mind that was little more than dead. He almost liked it. But, then again… He was still smart. He just…

_What? Just What?_

He was just…

_Just What, Dumbass?_

Just stupid, he guessed. If he couldn't give a reason for his lack of intelligence, what else did that make him?

_Damn Right…_

He stared at his cereal, not feeling as hungry as he'd felt before. Murdoc's eyes were drilling holes into his skull. Maybe he liked that. Okay, so he did. Not that the guitarist was ever going to _know_. Even if the bastard was now scrutinizing him like he was a slide under a microscope. He wondered what he'd done to deserve such attention.

Sighing, he chugged his coffee and gave Murdoc a sardonic grin that he was sure everyone would believe.

Only problem being, Murdoc's eyes still screamed _Liar…

* * *

_

**SORRY! I never update this slow, just so you guys know. It's just school. Hellish experience? Yes. But I like this story too much to give it up.**


	3. Fast

The lights of the club were dimmed to the point of blindness as 2D walked in. He felt the vibrations of the music pumping through the floor, nearly faster than his heartbeat. Tonight was the first night he had dared to leave since the Murdoc Incident. He'd been too scared to try. But, tonight, he'd needed it.

As he walked through the dance floor toward the bar, he thought of the incidents that had brought him there that night. It didn't take much anymore, did it? Not even words, though they helped. Just… just the way he _moved_ could send 2D running to his favorite haunts for a night of booze and alternate comfort. The way he played that damn bass… It wasn't fair. The only affection the man ever expressed was for an inanimate object.

His eyes scanned the bar, looking for someone of interest. At the end, two seats away from a couple of beautifully fake women, was a man, about six-two. He was taking a long swig of beer, the bottle shining in the pulsing light from the dance-floor. His choppy hair fell into his eyes, dark but probably dirty blonde in sunlight. Tight dark jeans and a black muscle shirt. A chain dangled around his throat…

… Hanging from it, an upside-down cross.

Feeling his stomach twist, he knew this was the one tonight. He strode over quickly, dropping into the seat next to him. The man didn't look up at first. 2D had known he wouldn't. He was glad he didn't. He'd have been disappointed if he'd been too eager.

He waved the bartender over. "Avalanche, heavy on the Kahlua." His voice was smooth; it caught the guy's attention. He looked over. Brown eyes. Almost catlike.

"On me." He slid over next to him, and 2D knew it couldn't be this easy.

He turned and blinked, making like he'd barely noticed him. "What ever for?"

"A bribe." The man said, leaning against the bar so much like Murdoc would, it nearly made him sick. He smirked; again, far too much like Murdoc. "Talk to me, gorgeous."

This time, it was 2D who smirked. "I'm not here to find someone to talk to."

* * *

Murdoc was becoming increasingly frustrated. He couldn't get comfortable, and tossing and turning on his mattress only seemed to make it worse. He clawed his nails into his pillow, unable to believe he wasn't asleep. He didn't know why…

No. That's a lie. He was dead sure of what was causing his insomnia.

He'd heard the footsteps again that night. Couldn't believe it, but he did. And peeking out the window, it was confirmed. 2D was headed for the exit. Dressed to kill, no less. Black and red button-down (first two open), tight distressed jeans with a black belt, combat boots, and a _black collar._ A Black _Fucking_ Collar. With spikes. And chains. So kinky, it shouldn't have been worn with such a normal outfit. But it actually worked… _very_ well.

He'd dropped the flag after taking in his entire appearance. The man had been on his mind since practice. His voice was sweet, hollow and desperate. So desperate… He'd almost stopped playing at one point, just to listen. He was slipping. Neglecting to hold back. Letting some, then all of himself slip through the song. And Murdoc watched, fascinated. Because now he knew, if that had been hidden before, something had slipped. He was struggling to hide it now.

He wasn't concerned; not really. Of course not. 2D was his own man, and he could do whatever the fuck he wanted. But still… there was still something there…

All he could do was think. Resigning himself to the dreadful fate, his eyes bored holes into the ceiling. It wasn't at all fair. Someone who didn't even know he was tormenting him, no matter how obvious he was, had him by a string. Scary, yes. But he refused to let it bother him. He wouldn't dare let it show.

He checked his watch. One-Thirty in the morning. Just as he was sure he'd dreamed the sight, he heard the footsteps again. Two sets, actually. So, he'd picked up a girl along the way? Great. Wonderful. Good for him. He was sure they'd be just precious together. Whoever the fuck she was. 2D was the type to latch onto some princess and fall head over heels in a moment's notice. This one better not fuck him over.

Closing his eyes, half out of frustration, half out of exhaustion, he tried to get some sleep. Still, something wasn't right. And he had a feeling sleep would be escaping him for a while.

* * *

The door of his room shut and locked, 2D's lips again found the other man's with ease. His name was Kevin, and he was a pastry chef at a local bakery. Not that any of that mattered. Because pastry chef Kevin could kiss him to the point of breathlessness, and was now rubbing his body against him in the most erotic way a pastry chef could. The room remained dark; 2D never turned on the lights at times like this. It would ruin the illusion.

Kevin's hand was trailing up his shirt. He didn't mind, even if he did want this to move a little faster. His kisses were growing more insistent, and 2D didn't mind that either, as long as it kept going.

He pulled away to nearly tear off the other man's shirt. He didn't seem to mind, to busy with the button-down 2D was wearing. He helped, finally letting it slide off his shoulders and land on the floor behind him. He unbuttoned the jeans, pushing them to the floor. His own pants followed.

He pulled Kevin toward the bed, kissing him again and letting his fingers trail down the erection he felt growing inside his boxers. He felt Kevin moan into the kiss, pressing himself further against him.

He didn't like to think at times like this. There wasn't much he could think about without realizing how horrible it all was. So he needed to move this fast. Just to keep him from thinking. He needed this hot, heavy, and quick enough to forget. It wouldn't work any other way. For a moment, he wondered what Kevin was trying to forget, being with him tonight. He didn't know. But he had to grind his hardness against Kevin's own just to forget his thoughts again.

"Fuck…" Kevin breathed. "I forgot condoms…"

Looking around his room, 2D mentally cursed. He didn't see any. "I'll grab some. Be right back."

He slipped out of his room quietly and began looking through the studio for the ones Murdoc always left lying around. He muttered curses to himself until he reached the kitchen, then stopped cold. Noodle was awake, getting herself a glass of milk and some cookies.

"Noodle?" He asked, immediately cursing himself. She'd been worried that morning. He'd be there talking all night.

* * *

Finally giving in, Murdoc rolled out of bed and ran a hand through his hair. He had to find out what was wrong with the bastard. It was just killing him. He walked across the carpark toward the door of 2D's room. He didn't care who the girl was. He and the vocalist needed to have a little chat.

He pushed the door open, and stopped dead.

A blonde man in black boxers was pulling on a pair of jeans halfway across the room. His brown eyes slid over in Murdoc's direction, staring at him out of the corner of his eye for a moment, before pulling his jeans up the rest of the way.

"Tell Stuart I have an early start." And he breezed past him through the doorway, headed back through the carpark, toward the door. Stunned, Murdoc turned and headed back toward the Winnebago. Only when he reached his bed did he dare think.

_Who the FUCK was That!

* * *

_

Thank you to all reviewers, to Mystery Reviewer for sticking me in his/her C2 ((ninja)), to all those who have hinted that they love it, and to DA Jersey Devil for teaching me how to spell bassist. ((sweatdrop)) Spelling is a weakness of mine. Therefore, I used guitarist.


	4. Nothing But The Eyes

By the time 2D got back to his room, Kevin was gone. That was okay. He wasn't the mood that much anymore. He looked around for another moment, and began picking up the clothes he'd left on the floor. He threw them in the corner with everything else, then flopped down onto his pillow.

So, what now? He couldn't go back to the club. He had no time. And he _couldn't_ sleep. Sleep seemed nearly impossible. Especially now, with no warmth by his side, no arms around his body. Nothing to keep him distracted.

He turned over and dug his face into the pillow. There goes his night.

* * *

Practice didn't go very well the next morning.

Murdoc tried to focus, but his eyes kept wandering to 2D. His eyes were baggy, and he was paler than the white walls of the room. He looked like he'd just woke up from a bad dream. His notes sounded lost, hollow. He wanted more than anything to throw something at him, tell him to snap out of it. Scream, yell, tell him to get over that stupid fucking creep who had the nerve to be there when Murdoc was. In 2D's room, pulling on his pants, flying out of there like the kid was nothing. Motherfucker.

A string of curses flew from his lips as he hit another bad chord. Noodle and Russell looked at each other warily. Sighing, he turned to them and glared. 2D yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"What the Hell is wrong with you, Shit-head?" 2D looked at him warily.

"I'm singin' the notes you told me to, Muds…"

That was another thing. That pleading, begging, nervous attitude had become dulled. Very dulled. Almost nonexistent.

"Well?" He growled, characteristically gloomy. "Start it over. And, Brainache, sing it right this time, if you can fuckin' manage."

Instead of his usual vocal response, 2D nodded numbly. Murdoc decided he couldn't dwell on this any longer. Thinking about it would kill him.

* * *

The lights were dim, and the club smelled of smoke and sweat. One of the sweetest scents in the whole damn world right then. He couldn't believe he'd gotten out this time. He thought Noodle would've stopped him at the door from the way she'd chewed him out the night before. But, he didn't want to think about Noodle. He scanned the bar, looking for anyone he could sink his teeth into.

The bartender, a good-looking man in his mid-twenties, approached. "You want anything?"

"Just a Dap, for now." 2D smiled softly, still scanning the club. Nobody single at the bar, but the dance-floor seemed an ocean of bodies, swaying to the rhythm of the music. He watched them, a little wary about stepping into the mix. He liked to loosen up with a buzz before he trolled the floor. Too many people at once.

The bartender handed him the beer, and he took a long swig. The bitter taste slid down his throat, and he tried to ignore the way the bartender looked at him. He began scanning the floor for a face. Then, he saw him.

Tall, lanky, with fire-red hair and dark eyes that could've killed him. Too-tight club-gear, and he was swimming through that ocean of a dance floor, straight for him. His stomach flip-flopped, and God help him, he couldn't catch his breath. The way the man was looking at him… Like he knew exactly what he wanted…

Just the way he always dreamed…

He blinked for a second, and took another swig of beer to catch his breath. The man was coming toward him, finally cutting through the dance floor and stepping past the last dancing couple. When he reached the bar, 2D took him in. Beautifully dark, nearly radiating the appeal he tried to fight daily. Fire-red hair, obviously dyed, and dark brown eyes. Skin that remained pale, even in the club's dark lighting. And 2D knew, tonight it was his. Every day, he tried to stay far from that darkness, that sweet, seductive beauty that Murdoc held. Now, here it was, sitting next to him, his for the taking. A good duplicate, anyway.

He had to stay cool. Keep his head straight. He took another sip of beer, and found his eyes. They turned his inhibitions to dust.

"You waiting for someone?" He started conversation, setting his beer back on the bar.

"No." He said after a moment. "You?"

"Depends…" He let it trail off slowly, teasingly. This caught the man's attention. "Will you keep me waiting?"

* * *

The door to the Hellhole-Bar 2D had led him to closed on his heels, and Murdoc glared through the wood. He hated places like this, didn't usually go unless his sex drive was on a last resort. But, tonight, he would find out what the damn Tusspot was up to if he had to beat it out of him. The thought should've made him feel better than it did.

The combination of darkness and strobe-lighting blurred the figures on the dance-floor into what looked like moving gel. Murdoc passed it by, not in the mood. Searching the place with a careful eye, he noticed several things. It smelled of pot and liquor, the dance floor was mostly male, and 2D was at the bar. Not alone.

The man beside him made his stomach of steel churn like a meat-grinder.

Cheap. That was the first thing that came to mind. The man was a cheap, lousy imitation. And 2D… he was falling for it with all his worth. Almost like he wanted to fall for it. The clothes, the hair, the smirk on the man's ugly pockmarked face. All of it was fake. The worst kind of fake. And he knew what the man was trying to look like. He knew who the man was trying to be.

It sickened him.

He was coming on strong. Not really trying to be smooth anymore. And 2D's eyes sized him up, taking him in, accepting him like a treasured gift. There was something wrong with this. Something wrong with 2D. He wasn't acting the same. He was acting…

2D leaned in, a hand on the man's thigh, and whispered something in his ear. The man, the fake, smirked and laughed easily. His laughed slowed to a sigh as the blue-haired boy's hand trailed up his thigh, dipping between his legs for a second, then sweeping back up.

… Different.

The fake leaned in, said something low, probably an invitation. When 2D grinned, Murdoc was frozen to the spot. He could only watch as Stu knocked back the last of his beer, and took the phony's hand, leading him quickly out the back way. The strobe-lights bounced off the door as it closed behind them.

He moved quickly, unsure of what he would say, but sure he had to say it. He got in his car and drove straight back to Kong, passing is Winnebago and slamming the door to Tusspot's room behind him.

He would wait.


End file.
